“You have nothing to draw with and the well is deep.” she said to the strange man who offered her a drink. No, not just a drink, but a promise that if she drank, she would never thirst again. Water was what she came seeking. And she knew how to get it. After all, the well had always met her need before. She had the process down. Bring your vessel to the well, lower it into the water, and bring it back up full. But this time it was different. She suddenly recognized a need for something that she couldn’t figure out how to get. And the man in front of her didn’t seem to be inclined to use traditional methods.
What do we do when we are met with a need we can‘t meet with our usual solutions? When the doctor says “I don‘t know what to do.” He’s been your well and suddenly, he can’t draw water any more. Or when a job is gone. When a friend leaves. When your peace is destroyed or your heart is broken. Suddenly, you need a source of water. You know where that water usually comes from; you‘ve been going to the well for it. You might even think you see it, way down at the bottom. This time, though, the well is deep and there is nothing to draw with.
As we focus on traditional solutions, we forget that God may plan to meet our need in a way that we do not expect. Certainly, the Samaritan woman thought she had it figured out. I smile when she asks “Where are you getting this water? Are you greater than Jacob, who dug this well?” I like to think that Jesus laughed inside as He anticipated her surprise and joy when her revelation came.
This is the heart of the matter. Do you believe He is greater than your trusted wells? It’s easy to think that we have come up with the best answer for our problems and to tell God so when we pray. We may not say “What, You think you have a better solution?” But we sometimes we ask “How are you going to do this? I don’t see a way.” We focus on the solution that we see at the bottom of the well. We focus on the fact that there is nothing to draw with. But Jesus isn’t in the well. He is greater than the well. He is the water.
I love the way the Samaritan woman leaves her water pot when she understands who Jesus is and where her water is coming from. To me, this is a picture of giving control of our supply to God. We see it in those who truly understand that Jesus is the water. Peter drops his nets. Matthew swipes the coins off the table. The woman with the issue of blood sheds her dignity and her doctors to crawl to the hem of His garment. David rejects Saul’s armor. The lame man puts away his begging mat. The blind man stops asking for alms and asks for mercy. They no longer hold onto the things they have been trusting in to sustain them.
What are seeking? Into what well are you gazing, thinking that the answer to your need is at the bottom. Instead of leaning stubbornly over a well, let me encourage you to lift up your eyes and focus on the one who is the water. When you do, you will understand that He is greater than the things you have been trusting in to sustain you. How does the song go? “He may not come when you want Him, but He’ll be there right on time.” Well, He also may not come from where you expect Him or do things the way you asked Him. But He’ll be there. On time. With enough. In the right way. You’ll drop your water pot, too.
Sunday, June 17, 2012
Saturday, January 28, 2012
Ordered By The Lion
Lately, on my way back and forth to church, I have been listening to C.S. Lewis’s The Horse and His Boy. I have listened to it before, but this time, the story wrapped itself around my heart and inscribed thereon a reminder of the one truth that I have clung to since my youth.
The Horse and His Boy is the story of Shasta, a boy who has been a slave to a cruel master for as long as he can remember, and his escape to Narnia. With him, travel a Tarkan girl fleeing an arranged marriage and 2 Narnian horses taken into captivity as foals. On the journey, they are met with many hardships and Shasta seems to feel their hardships the most. Near the end of the story, he is wandering in a wilderness lamenting his misfortune when he hears a voice asking him why he feels that he is so unfortunate.
Replying, he recounts the hardships that he has faced. Orphaned. Enslaved. Separated from his friends. Lost. Cold. Hungry. Alone. Chased and frightened by lions. Surely, anyone can see that he is a most unfortunate boy. But the voice tells him “I do not call you unfortunate.”
What? Not unfortunate? Why, even to meet so many lions should be enough to have a legitimate claim to misfortune.
But the voice still disagrees and reveals he was the lion, the only lion, that Shasta has encountered. He tells him,
"I was the lion who forced you to join with Aravis. I was the cat who comforted you among the houses of the dead. I was the lion who drove the jackals from you while you slept. I was the lion who gave the Horses the new strength of fear for the last mile so that you should reach King Lune in time. And I was the lion you do not remember who pushed the boat in which you lay, a child near death, so that it came to shore where a man sat, wakeful at midnight, to receive you."
Those familiar with C.S. Lewis’s work, know that the lion is Aslan, who Lewis used to represent Christ in his stories. And you’re way ahead of me, aren’t you?
It’s easy for us to see how the good things and the neutral things are the hand of God in our lives. That makes sense. It’s harder to recognize His hand when the things we face are painful or frightening or disappointing. It’s often only in looking backwards that we recognize His guidance and His care.
Right now, I feel as though lions were devouring my life. I had such plans before this illness and this pain came upon me. It looks, right now, as if those things are lost. Like Shasta, I stumble a little in the dark and wonder why I am facing such things. I have had days when the disappointment was almost something I could taste. I have had days when I was one Sarah MacLaughlin song away form crawling into bed and never getting out again. But those have been days; I have an entire life of God’s goodness to compare them to. Experience and scripture tell me that He knows the thoughts that He has towards me. I may not have the details or understand the logistics, but I know I have a future and a hope.
So I refuse to call myself unfortunate. I hear Christ saying “I was the lion.” and I am comforted.
Just as Shasta didn’t know the glorious future that was before him and that even his “misfortunes” were vehicles to carry him towards the life that he was born to have, we do not always recognize the lions in our lives as one Lion who is directing our paths. It is through this recognition that we find ourselves at peace with circumstance and at peace with the direction in which those circumstances take us.
The steps of a good man are ordered by the [Lion] and he delighteth in His way.
The Horse and His Boy is the story of Shasta, a boy who has been a slave to a cruel master for as long as he can remember, and his escape to Narnia. With him, travel a Tarkan girl fleeing an arranged marriage and 2 Narnian horses taken into captivity as foals. On the journey, they are met with many hardships and Shasta seems to feel their hardships the most. Near the end of the story, he is wandering in a wilderness lamenting his misfortune when he hears a voice asking him why he feels that he is so unfortunate.
Replying, he recounts the hardships that he has faced. Orphaned. Enslaved. Separated from his friends. Lost. Cold. Hungry. Alone. Chased and frightened by lions. Surely, anyone can see that he is a most unfortunate boy. But the voice tells him “I do not call you unfortunate.”
What? Not unfortunate? Why, even to meet so many lions should be enough to have a legitimate claim to misfortune.
But the voice still disagrees and reveals he was the lion, the only lion, that Shasta has encountered. He tells him,
"I was the lion who forced you to join with Aravis. I was the cat who comforted you among the houses of the dead. I was the lion who drove the jackals from you while you slept. I was the lion who gave the Horses the new strength of fear for the last mile so that you should reach King Lune in time. And I was the lion you do not remember who pushed the boat in which you lay, a child near death, so that it came to shore where a man sat, wakeful at midnight, to receive you."
Those familiar with C.S. Lewis’s work, know that the lion is Aslan, who Lewis used to represent Christ in his stories. And you’re way ahead of me, aren’t you?
It’s easy for us to see how the good things and the neutral things are the hand of God in our lives. That makes sense. It’s harder to recognize His hand when the things we face are painful or frightening or disappointing. It’s often only in looking backwards that we recognize His guidance and His care.
Right now, I feel as though lions were devouring my life. I had such plans before this illness and this pain came upon me. It looks, right now, as if those things are lost. Like Shasta, I stumble a little in the dark and wonder why I am facing such things. I have had days when the disappointment was almost something I could taste. I have had days when I was one Sarah MacLaughlin song away form crawling into bed and never getting out again. But those have been days; I have an entire life of God’s goodness to compare them to. Experience and scripture tell me that He knows the thoughts that He has towards me. I may not have the details or understand the logistics, but I know I have a future and a hope.
So I refuse to call myself unfortunate. I hear Christ saying “I was the lion.” and I am comforted.
Just as Shasta didn’t know the glorious future that was before him and that even his “misfortunes” were vehicles to carry him towards the life that he was born to have, we do not always recognize the lions in our lives as one Lion who is directing our paths. It is through this recognition that we find ourselves at peace with circumstance and at peace with the direction in which those circumstances take us.
The steps of a good man are ordered by the [Lion] and he delighteth in His way.
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